January 26, 2010

You know how Oprah does a show every now and then where she makes someone's dream come true? Well, I'm feeling charitable. I wanna make *some Philly dude's dream come true; I wanna give him his quintessential Philly dream date. To be more specific, I want him to take me on his quintessential Philly dream date. Yup, you and me dating it up like two daters on a date. Not just any date, a dream date.

It doesn't have to be this big fancy affair. It can be something as simple as walking around Rittenhouse and grabbing lunch at Reading Terminal Market. Or, it can be tacos at La Lupe then coffee at B2 then drinks at the Pope. Really, anything! As long as it's your dream.

*Attn. potential dream dater: You must be under 5'10. I know it's strange and cruel, but if I'm going with you on this dream date, you have to be under that height to go on this ride. Er, DATE! I mean date. Because it's with me. And, I like shorter guys. And, you have to send me a picture or a link to yer facebook or blog or twitter. I wanna see what I'm workin' with here!

If you throw your hat in the ring, here is what I promise for you as your co-dream dater:

I will smell good

I will wear a dress

I will laugh at 90% of your jokes

I will match you, drink for drink (five drink maximum)

Interested? Send me an email to hi@shmittenkitten.com with "dream dater" in the subject and explain what your Philly dream date is and why I should go with you. Extra points if it's iambic pentameter. Just kidding. And, if we've already gone out before, I'll consider going out with you again if you make a strong case for a do-over. Come on, Philly, let's dream this dream together.

It seems natural that any guy who's single at the beginning of February would just stick it out for another two weeks to avoid the mid-month nightmare. So, even though there's no apparent deadline to the Dream Date Challenge, submissions might start pouring in only after the 14th, when there'll be a good excuse for not bringing flowers and having chocolate stains on the sleeve of my -er- his coat. I mean, who's not obsessing about Ralph Wiggum at this time of year? And certainly those Rittenhouse pigeons are always ready for some target practice.